Starting From Scratch
by BatTitan
Summary: Slight AU. Really, what was Dean supposed to do with a miniature version of his ex-blood-junkie brother? They had an Apocalypse to stop, damn it! He couldn't afford to take care of a kid! Post-Changing Channels.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

* * *

"It's a routine hunt," Bobby had said. "It'll kill time while we try to stop the Apocalypse."

Somehow Dean didn't think this was Bobby had had in mind as the witch ran a perfectly-manicured hand down his face.

"Such a pretty face."

Pretty? He figured his face warranted a 'handsome in a manly way,' and he said as much, still struggling against the ropes that held him to the pillar.

The witch scoffed and he could practically see the interest in him draining out of her expression as her eyes flicked to Sam, who was tied to the pillar beside Dean's. He was still unconscious, his long hair flopping into his face as blood trickled from a gash in his forehead.

"There's still some innocence in this one, though." She moved to touch Sam's face and something inside Dean snapped.

"Don't you touch him!"

She paused, her hand hovering over Sam's cheek indecisively. "Word travels in the supernatural community, Dean. He started the Apocalypse. Surely that warrants a little indifference on your part."

Dean hated to say it, but she was right. He still couldn't stand to look at Sam sometimes, something in his gut turning ice-cold every time his little brother turned those stupid puppy-eyes on him. The whole Satan's-vessel issue did _not_ help matters.

The witch smiled, sensing his hesitation. "I thought as much." She turned back to Sam, her pale gray eyes scanning over the younger Winchester's face as he stirred with a groan.

"Dean...?" Something in Dean's chest twisted painfully at the vulnerability in Sam's tone and the witch seemed to make a decision as she pressed her palm against Sam's cheek.

A flash of light blinded Dean and he shut his eyes instinctively. When he opened his eyes, the witch was gone, and so was Sam. The ropes that had held him lay against the other pillar, his clothes in a pile beside them.

"SAM!" Dean tugged harder at his restraints, feeling the knot of rope begin to give way under his rough pulls. "SAMMY!"

A snuffling sound came from the pile of clothes and a messy-haired little head popped out from underneath Sam's jacket's collar, hazel eyes wide and disoriented.

Dean stared.

The small boy stared back. There was no mistaking those eyes.

"Sam?" Dean prompted tentatively.

Sam's face scrunched up and that was all the warning Dean received before he burst into tears.

Fantastic.

* * *

**I felt a mighty need to write a de-aged Sammy fic. I know this chapter's short, and I really have some issue with writing long chapters for some reason, but I promise I'll try to make the next chapter longer.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Dean remained frozen in his spot, staring at the wailing child that had once been Sam Winchester. It was only the sound of Sam struggling to breathe through sobs that snapped him out of his shock.

"Sam! Sammy, it's okay!" He wriggled out of the loosened ropes that bound his wrists, scrambling to pick up the little boy. The clothes that had once fit an adult Sam no longer stayed up on his body. The plaid shirt Sam usually wore slipped down his tiny shoulders as Dean hauled him into his arms.

Then the kid really started panicking. Bony limbs swung and kicked desperately as he tried to launch himself away from Dean.

"WAN' DE! WAN' DE!" he screamed, tears streaming down his red cheeks as he managed to land a good kick in Dean's abdomen. Dean hissed in pain and let Sam drop to the ground as he wrapped an arm around his bruised stomach. Sam toppled to the ground, hitting his head on the cement floor. His cries began anew at the added pain.

Dean forced his discomfort aside and pulled Sam into his arms again.

"Sammy, it's me! It's Dean!" He tilted the little boy's chin up so that their eyes met. "It's me, bro."

Sam hiccuped slightly, rubbing a small fist against one eye. "De?"

The old nickname, caused by Sam's inability to pronounce the 'n' sound and long outgrown with time, sent a pang of nostalgia through Dean's heart and all he could do was smile in return.

"Big," Sam said blankly, staring at Dean with wide eyes. His hand reached up, small fingers probing at the stubble on Dean's chin.

"Yeah, well. You're small." It was a terrible comeback and Dean knew it, but it had the intended effect: Sam giggled quietly, his tears long forgotten.

"De," he repeated softly and Dean nodded.

"I'm Dean."

Sam huffed a sigh of what seemed like relief before flopping bonelessly against Dean's chest, having exhausted himself with his hysterical fit. His small head managed to tuck itself beneath Dean's chin, his thin arms winding around Dean's neck. Even before Dean managed to scoop Sam up and get to his feet, the younger Winchester was already fast asleep. His breaths came out in weak rasps from crying and screaming, his button-like nose mashed against Dean's shoulder.

Dean angled the boy's head so that his face was no longer squished before wrapping the now-oversized tan jacket around Sam's small form.

"We're gonna have to get you some new clothes," he noted as Sam shifted unconsciously closer.

First things first, though, he had to call Bobby and see if they could find a spell to reverse Sam's current state.

* * *

_"So you're tellin' me the witch laid a hand on your brother and turned him into a kid before she flew the coop?"_ Dean had almost forgotten how sassy Bobby could sound when faced with ridiculous situations.

"Pretty much. Kid looks like he's about..." He glanced at the sleeping little boy on the seat of the Impala beside him. "Three. Maybe less. He could barely talk even after I'd calmed him down."

_"Well, I've never heard of a de-aging spell before, but I ain't surprised they exist. You heading back here?"_

"We're holing up in town for the night and coming over tomorrow. Sam kinda needs clothes and things. His old ones are too big for him now."

Bobby huffed a disgruntled _"Idjit"_ at him before he could hang up, and the insult left Dean feeling more in his element than he had been since this whole crazy mess had begun. He shut his phone off and saw wide hazel eyes staring unblinkingly at him.

"Hey, Sammy." He tried to make his voice sound light. "Thought you'd be sleeping a little more." Sam shook his head, brown curls flopping into his chubby face. "You not tired anymore?" Sam shook his head again. "You wanna eat something?" Another shake of the head, and Dean was beginning to feel completely out of his depth once more. "C'mon, you gotta want _something_."

Silently, Sam shuffled sideways until his head leaned against Dean's arm. He looked perfectly content to stay there, his eyes still fixed on Dean's face. Dean was a little unnerved by all the staring.

"Knock it off, Sam." He immediately regretted the harsh rebuke when Sam flinched away, his gaze dropping to his tiny hands as he shuffled back to his original spot by the window. "Sam?" Dean tried hesitantly and felt like he could kick himself when Sam flinched again. With a weary sigh at his own idiocy, he returned his attention to the road.

Sam remained silent all the way until they pulled into the motel and Dean made to get out of the car to check in, at which point he made a whining noise of protest and latched onto Dean's arm. The older Winchester faltered.

"Sam, I've gotta go check in. They're gonna ask questions if they see you not wearing any clothes." Sam tugged on his arm insistently and Dean shook his head. "I can't take you." He forced himself to shake Sam off his arm and made himself not turn back when Sam wailed his name desperately after his retreating back.

When he returned, a room key nestled in the pocket of his jeans, Sam was huddled on the passenger side of the car, his small face buried into the material of the jacket around him. When Dean moved to pick Sam up, the boy flinched away from him and Dean saw the dark patch on the jacket where tears had fallen.

"Aww, Sammy, don't cry," he sighed softly, shifting closer.

"Wan' De," Sam sniffled, rubbing at his reddened, puffy eyes.

"I'm right here."

"_No_." Sam glared at him, frustrated. "Wan' _De_." Then realization hit Dean like a punch to the stomach, leaving him winded.

Sam didn't want _him_. He wanted his big brother.

"He's not here, kiddo." Dean held his hands out placatively. "I guess you're just gonna have to make do with me." Sam eyed him warily, probably expecting another rejection, before hesitantly inching forward. Dean met him halfway, scooping him up and letting him lean against his chest. Sam buried his face into Dean's shoulder and began to sob again, his entire body trembling with exertion.

Dean held him silently, unsure of what else to do as his shoulder grew steadily more damp with tears.

* * *

**Really, I have no idea what the hell I'm doing with this story, but I've always wondered what would happen if Season 5 progressed like this and the muse refused to leave me alone. So here it is in all its glory. Happy now, muse?**

**Muse: Yep! -innocent baby!Sammy grin-**

**Me: The things I do for you...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

Sam hiccuped his way into unconsciousness and only then did Dean find it safe to move him. He scooped Sam up, wrapping the tan jacket around his shivering form - it _was_ the tail end of autumn, no wonder the kid was freezing - and carrying him into the motel room. Thanking his lucky stars that the room was cleaner than most other motels he was used to, he placed Sam under the covers of the bed farthest from the door. Sam sniffled and curled up like a kitten beneath the sheets, his tiny body hunched over to conserve heat.

Dean ran a hand through his hair as he sat back on the other bed, staring at the sleeping form of his little-turned-even-more-little brother.

"The hell are we gonna do, Sammy?" he murmured. Sam burrowed deeper into the pillow in response and Dean couldn't help but smile. It had been a long time since he had seen his brother this vulnerable and - dare he say it - _cute_.

First things first, Sam needed clothes. Knowing he would not be getting any awards for parenting anytime soon, Dean reluctantly stood. He poured a line of salt over the doorstep after retrieving the container from the car before leaving the motel room, locking it behind him. Hopefully, Sam wouldn't wake by the time he returned.

The department store down the street was still open at ten at night - Dean would have thanked God, but remembered that God was still a total douche - and had a fully-stocked kids' clothing area. Dean made a beeline for the section dedicated to kids of ages three to five. He picked out three plain shirts - green, blue, and red - before adding three pairs of small jeans. He added two pairs of green and blue pajamas to the cart, too, before heading over to the shoe section to find the sneakers closest to Sam's size.

He debated between a pair of light-up sneakers and plain black ones before opting for the light-ups. He had a feeling Sam would love them. With a few pairs of socks added to the cart, he headed over to the checkout line.

The clerk at the register gave him an odd look as she scanned the clothes' tags and Dean looked sheepish.

"My nephew. His dad and I are taking him on a roadtrip and, uh, we didn't bring enough clothes for him." Her confusion cleared up, she smiled and nodded as she finished ringing up his purchases. Normally, Dean would have flirted with her, but his heart wasn't in it. All he could think about was his kid brother sleeping in the motel down the road.

He grabbed the bags as soon as he paid for them with a credit card bearing the name 'John Bonham' and made his way out the sliding door.

* * *

When Dean returned to the motel, he was dismayed to see that Sam had awoken and was clearly panicking. The kid had managed to tuck himself into a corner of the room, trembling with fear.

"Sammy?" Dean dropped the plastic bags onto the other bed before moving to kneel in front of the toddler. "I'm sorry, kiddo, I just had to get some clothes for you." Sam continued to shiver, his arms wrapped around his knees. The tan jacket was still haphazardly wrapped around him, completely enveloping him. "Sammy, talk to me." Dean reached out to stroke back the curls from Sam's forehead and Sam jerked back, his eyes narrowing.

"Left me, De." He sounded accusing, and Dean supposed he deserved it.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"_Left_ me!" Sam was shaking again, tears welling up in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Dean repeated helplessly.

"Thought-" Sam inhaled sharply and fell silent, staring at the ground as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"You thought I'd ditched you," Dean realized with a soft sigh. "Aw, Sammy." He hauled his little brother into his arms and the toddler buried his face into Dean's shoulder. "I wouldn't do that to you. Not now, not ever."

Sam still looked skeptical, but he still mumbled "De" once more, as if confirming that Dean was still there, and Dean obliged him by tightening his arms around the younger Winchester. Sam shuddered with one last suppressed sob before sinking into the embrace whole-heartedly.

Dean rubbed his back gently before pulling back slightly. "Hey, I got some pajamas for you, too. You wanna take a bath and put 'em on?" Sam sniffled and nodded, wiping his nose on his arm. Dean grimaced and offered his own arm instead, something Sam took advantage of as he blew his nose on Dean's sleeve. "C'mon, kiddo." Dean scooped Sam up into his arms, carrying him into the bathroom and setting him down on the sink counter. He took off his own outer shirt and tossed it aside, leaving the gray T-shirt he always wore underneath as he turned on the warm water for the bathtub.

"De?" He turned to Sam, who was watching him uncertainly.

"What's up, Sammy?"

"I hurt." Sam's hand came up to touch his own forehead and Dean then realized the problem: the gash on Sam's forehead was still there. He had assumed it had disappeared with the de-aging, but that was clearly not the case. Mentally kicking himself for not seeing it sooner, Dean gently pulled Sam's hand away from his forehead.

"Yeah, you've got a little cut there. I'm gonna clean it up so you can take a bath, okay? We can put a Band-Aid on it later." Sam nodded, reaching for the cut again to probe it experimentally. "Don't touch it."

Dean went to grab the medical kit from the Impala's trunk and made it back to the motel room in record time. He took an antiseptic wipe from the kit and returned to Sam's side.

"Hey, this is gonna hurt, okay?" Sam nodded again, but still cried out when Dean wiped the cut gently.

"Ow, De!" He tried to push Dean's hand away.

"I'm sorry. I'm almost done, okay?" Sam sniffled and nodded. Dean wiped the cut once more and, satisfied that it was cleaned out, threw away the wipe. "C'mon." He scooped Sam up and lowered him into the tub gently. The boy froze for a moment to let his body get accustomed to the warm water. It wasn't as hot as Dean would have preferred it to be, but he supposed that was the standard of every motel. Sam tentatively splashed the water, sending waves up against the side of the tub. "Hey, you're the one who needs a bath, not me," Dean teased lightly, moving back slightly to avoid getting wet.

A spark of mischief appeared in Sam's hazel eyes and he splashed again, this time catching Dean's shirt with a few stray drops of water.

"Hey!" Sam giggled at Dean's mock-indignation. In retaliation, Dean dug his fingers into the spot just beneath Sam's ribs, earning a peal of laughter from the toddler.

"No, De, _no_!" he squealed as he squirmed, sending water over the both of them. Dean didn't really care as he continued to tickle Sam; it had been a long time since he had heard his baby brother laugh like that and Apocalypse be damned, he would make the most of it.

He stopped tickling Sam long enough to use the bar of soap to clean off the bits of grime and dirt still sticking to the child's skin. He tilted Sam's head back long enough to cup water in his hands and gently pour it over Sam's hair, washing it effectively. Finally, dripping wet and shivering, Sam clambered out of the tub. Dean managed to get a towel around him, rubbing him down until Sam was no longer trembling.

"I'll grab your pajamas, okay?" Sam nodded and Dean went to get the pajamas out of the plastic bag. He chose the blue ones and brought it back to Sam after tearing off the tags. Sam reached for the clothes.

"I do it!" Dean hesitated. "I big boy!" Sam insisted and Dean snorted as he relented, handing over the pajamas.

"Yeah, yeah." Sam scowled at his derision before attempting to pull on the pajamas. Dean left him to it, gathering the dirty clothes and towel into a pile.

"De, help!" He turned to see Sam hopelessly entangled in the pajama top.

"Well, at least you got your pants on," he sighed as he moved to help pull Sam's arms through the sleeves. Finally, the little boy's head emerged over the collar of the shirt and he gave Dean a sheepish smile. Dean ruffled his damp hair in return and picked him up, resting him on his hip. Sam yawned and placed his head on Dean's shoulder. "Tired, Sammy?"

Sam nodded, his thumb sliding into his mouth almost on instinct. "De no go." His voice slurred with drowsiness.

"No, I won't leave again. I promise." Sam nodded against Dean's neck, accepting this, and Dean placed him in the bed.

"Ban'-Aid," Sam reminded him.

"How could I forget?" Dean grabbed a Band-Aid from the kit and plastered it over the cut on Sam's forehead. "Better?" Sam nodded again, smiling sleepily as he snuggled into the covers. "Okay. Go to sleep." Dean's hand hovered indecisively over Sam's head before he carded his hand through the brown curls gently. Sam exhaled softly before drifting fully into sleep.

Dean didn't have the strength to move to the other bed, so he simply kicked off his shoes and lay down beside his tiny brother, asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

* * *

**I swear, the more I write this, the less convinced I am that I actually had a plot to this. But I do, I swear! The story will follow Season 5's plot once I get the initial Sammy-cuteness out of the way!**

**Toddler!Sam: BOW BEFORE MY CUTENESS.**

**Me: -flops to ground and worships-**

**Toddler!Sam: Tee-hee-hee. :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

Dean awoke to a heavy weight on his chest and groaned, rubbing at his eyes. The weight snuffled in return, burrowing deeper into Dean's chest. That jolted the older Winchester wide awake as he stared down at the shaggy head of a three-year-old Sam Winchester.

The memories of the previous day came flooding back and he groaned again, this time in disappointment. He had hoped the spell would simply wear off and Sam would be back to his gargantuan self by morning. Clearly, that was not the case.

Sam yawned squeakily and opened his eyes, blinking sleepily in the early morning light streaming through the motel windows.

"De?"

"Go back to sleep, Sammy." Dean stroked back the curls falling into Sam's face and the boy shook his head.

"Not sleepy." Dean sat up in bed and Sam tucked his head underneath Dean's chin, arms wrapping loosely around Dean's neck. Wondering just when he allowed his life to become an extended chick-flick moment - probably about the same time Sam had been turned into a kid - Dean allowed the contact, letting Sam snuggle to his heart's content.

"C'mon," he said after a few minutes. "We need to get to Bobby's." Sam's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Bobby. You remember him, don't you?" Icy fear settled in Dean's stomach when Sam continued to look perplexed.

"Who's Bobby?"

"He's...a friend of Dad's." If Dean hadn't been so bewildered by Sam's loss of memory, he would have regretted saying that as Sam perked up.

"Daddy?"

"He's not here, Sam," Dean said quickly and Sam's face crumpled with disappointment.

"Oh." His voice was quiet as he let his arms slide away from Dean's neck. Dean ran his hand over the top of Sam's head gently.

"Come on, squirt. Let's get your teeth brushed and stuff." Sam nodded listlessly as he slid off the edge of the bed and heading for the bathroom. Dean waited until Sam had finished his business and flushed the toilet before entering the bathroom, thanking whoever was listening that Sam had already been potty-trained. "Need some help?" Sam nodded, unable to reach the counter on his own, and Dean lifted him onto the counter.

After he had helped Sam brush his teeth and rinse his mouth, he brushed his own teeth and rinsed.

"Hey, Sammy, I'm gonna take a shower. Just turn on the TV and watch some cartoons till I come out, okay?" Dean set Sam on the ground and the toddler stared back at him before nodding.

"'Kay, De." Dean squeezed Sam's shoulder and watched the boy leave the bathroom before shutting the door behind him. He had forgotten to take a shower the previous night, having been in shock over Sam's curse, but now he could feel the dirt crawling all over his skin.

He tried to make his shower as quick as possible, but when he left the bathroom five minutes later to grab his clothes, wearing a towel, Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at his pajama-clad knees morosely. Dean was _not_ going to have a heart-to-heart in a towel, so he grabbed his clothes and quickly changed into them before returning to kneel in front of Sam.

"Hey. What's eating you?" He poked at Sam's stomach and the boy curled in on himself slightly, not replying. "Sammy? Talk to me, kiddo."

"Wan' Daddy," Sam admitted at last and Dean felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach.

"Dad's not here," he answered carefully.

"The monster got him." Sam lifted his eyes to meet Dean's. "The one that killed Mommy." It was the most coherent string of thought Sam had put together, and it tore at Dean's heart.

"Sam, how much do you remember?" he asked warily. Sam shrugged. "I need you to tell me. What do you remember?" Sam shook his head rapidly. "Do you remember the Apocalypse? Breaking the last seal?"

Sam's whole body was trembling now and he brought his hands up to his head, pressing his palms against his forehead as if he was in pain. "White light, burning, Dean, my fault, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry-" His chanting of the word became more frantic and Dean immediately regretted pushing him.

"Sam! Sammy!" He pulled the little boy into his arms. "Shh, shh, it's okay." Sam's apologies subsided into whimpers and sobs as Dean held him close.

"Sorry, Dean," he whispered again and Dean squeezed his shoulders.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have forced you to tell me." Sam shuddered against him and closed his eyes. Dean stroked his hair gently, realizing that Sam had stopped calling him 'De.'

He didn't know why that made his heart sink with disappointment.

* * *

Sam was unnaturally cooperative for the rest of the morning, letting Dean dress him in a pair of jeans and the green shirt the older Winchester had purchased the night before. He only reacted when Dean pulled out the new sneakers and put them on Sam's feet. The toddler took one step experimentally and watched as the shoes lit up.

Dean had guessed right; Sam loved them. The little boy's face brightened and he smiled widely, jumping up and down just to see the shoes blink again. Dean had to smile, too, watching Sam run around like the three-year-old that he technically was at the moment. Sam barrelled into Dean's stomach seconds later, hugging him tightly in thanks. Dean's hand hovered over Sam's back as he paused, uncertain, but before he could figure out what to do, Sam had already let go again, beaming brightly.

They stopped at a diner for breakfast before heading out of town, and the waitress attending their table cooed over Sam, pinching his cheeks and telling Dean how lucky he was to have such an adorable son.

Dean didn't have the heart to correct her after Sam nodded seriously and declared that Dean was "the bestest daddy ever."

Sam managed to get syrup all over his hands from the pancakes Dean ordered for him, and after they were done eating, Dean took him to the bathroom to wash his hands and face before they left. Dean buckled Sam into the Impala's passenger seat and slid into the driver's seat before setting a course for Sioux Falls.

Dean was glad Sam had been a quiet toddler and that he hadn't learned enough vocabulary to be the chatterbox Dean knew he would become in a few short years. It made the ride to Bobby's a whole lot easier to handle. In fact, Sam had gone straight back to sleep about an hour into the drive, which left Dean alone with his thoughts.

So Sam remembered bits and pieces of his adult life. That was unsurprising, honestly, but Sam's current mind didn't seem to be able to cope with the onslaught of memories. Dean just hoped those memories wouldn't come back to bite Sam, but then again, they were Winchesters. Their whole lives were built on bad luck.

It was a relief to pull into the salvage yard. Dean lifted the sleeping Sam into his arms and made his way to the front door. He knocked once on the edge of the screen door and Bobby opened it about a minute later. He wheeled backwards slightly to allow Dean in.

"That him?"

"Yeah." Dean was relieved that Bobby kept his voice low. "He'll wake up any minute now, he slept through most of the ride here." Sam stirred against him, as if on cue, and Dean shifted the boy in his arms. "Hey, Sammy," he murmured to his brother. "We're at Bobby's. You wanna say 'hi?'" Sam peeked at Bobby before hiding his face in Dean's shoulder again. "When'd you get so shy?" Dean poked Sam's stomach. "Go on, say 'hi.'"

"Hi," Sam mumbled, still not looking at Bobby, and the older hunter chuckled wryly.

"Hey, Sam." Dean lowered Sam to the ground and Sam stumbled in his sleepy daze. Bobby caught the boy by leaning forward, steadying him. Sam placed a hand on the wheelchair's handle to balance himself, studying the metallic chair curiously.

"How come?" He poked at the wheel of the chair, clearly asking about the reason Bobby was in it.

"Uhh, maybe later," Dean said quickly before Bobby could respond, catching the resentment before the older hunter could begin to express it, and Bobby rolled his eyes as he wheeled backwards, turning and heading for the study. Dean scooped Sam up again and followed.

"I've been looking through my collection, but I can't find any de-aging spells, or any counters," Bobby explained as he nodded to the pile of books on his desk. "The best thing to do is find the witch who cursed Sam and get her to undo the spell."

"She's long gone," Dean sighed wearily as he dropped onto the couch, placing Sam on his lap. Sam curled up against Dean's chest, his fingers twisting into the black material of Dean's shirt. "We won't find her now."

"Maybe _we_ can't." Bobby raised an eyebrow at Dean. "But we've got an angel on our side. He could track her down."

"Who, Cas?" Dean blinked. "Isn't he busy searching for God or something?"

"I am not currently preoccupied." The gruff familiarity of the voice caused Dean to turn, Sam peeking over his shoulder nervously.

"Hey, Cas." Dean grinned and Castiel nodded in return, his stoic expression softening slightly.

"Hello, Dean." He turned his attention to the toddler, who hid his face in Dean's shoulder. "We seem to have a problem."

* * *

**So here's a little more insight into what's going on in Sam's head. I'm really not too fond of this chapter, but I just wanted to crank another one out before I go to bed. I'll probably write the next chapter tomorrow evening and then my updates will slow down a little. Maybe.**

**Toddler!Sam: What? Slow down? HOW DARE YOU.**

**Me: Get out, Toddler!Sam, you don't own me!**

**Toddler!Sam: -uses Puppy Eyes-**

**-It is super effective.-**

**Me: -dies from cuteness-**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

"It has been a long time since a spell this ancient has been used on anyone," Castiel noted, surveying Sam with mild curiosity. The toddler had finally ventured out from Dean's shoulder, staring back at the angel with wide hazel eyes.

"No kidding, that's why they call 'em _ancient_, Cas." Dean couldn't help the sarcasm and earned a reprimanding look for it.

"What did the witch say before she cast the spell?"

"She didn't say any Latin or incantation, if that's what you mean," Dean answered. That fact alone confused him; shouldn't spells usually have words?

"Not necessarily." Dean gaped at Castiel as the angel added, "Spells can be nonverbal. In fact, the most powerful ones are."

"Dude, stay out of my head."

Castiel frowned. "It is difficult to do so when you think so loudly."

"I am not! How does someone _think_ loudly, anyway?!"

Bobby interrupted before Castiel could reply. "That's enough squabblin', you two. Like an old married couple, I swear." Sam giggled at Bobby's grumbling and Dean didn't have the heart to complain that Castiel and he were _not _an old married couple, thank you very much.

"I meant that the witch may have given a hint as to what spell she cast whilst speaking," Castiel explained at last.

Dean thought back. "She said something about there still being innocence in him or something, but that's just her rambling, not-" Castiel disappeared even before Dean could finish speaking. "What the hell?"

"Hell!" Sam echoed and Dean looked down at him, startled. Sam grinned back innocently.

"Watch what you say 'round him," Bobby cautioned. "Kids that age pick up the worst things to say."

Dean grimaced as he shifted Sam in his arms. "Well, cr-" Sam looked up and Dean amended quickly, "Darn." Sam settled down again and Dean tweaked the boy's nose. "The things we do for you, Sammy." The toddler giggled as Bobby rolled his eyes, clearly in agreement with Dean.

"Have you two even eaten anything today?"

"We had breakfast before driving down here," Dean said, but Sam's stomach chose that moment to make its emptiness known, grumbling ominously. Sam's mouth opened slightly in surprise as he poked his own stomach, giggling. "Guess that means the kid's hungry again." Dean lifted Sam against his shoulder. "C'mon, kiddo. Let's get you some food."

"Chili's on the stove," Bobby called after them as Dean carried Sam into the kitchen.

"You're a regular Martha Stewart, Bobby," Dean called back, grinning as he set Sam down long enough to retrieve two bowls from the cabinet and ladle out chili into each one. He gave one to Sam, along with a spoon, and sat down to eat his own.

"Yeah, yeah, don't expect it too often, boy," Bobby muttered as he wheeled in. Dean got him a bowl, too, and received a glare for his efforts. "You oughta tell Sam that you can't eat by pushing the food at your face."

"Huh?" Dean looked and saw that Sam was doing exactly that, mashing the spoonful of chili against his mouth in frustration. The food was smeared around his cheeks, barely entering his mouth. "Aw, sh - shoot." Dean reached out to take the spoon from Sam. "Here, Sammy." Sam scowled petulantly, but relented, handing Dean the spoon. Dean scooped some of the chili onto the spoon and gently placed the food in Sam's open mouth. Sam's irritation disappeared as he chewed and swallowed, a wide smile of delight forming instead. He reached for the spoon and Dean gave it up, watching as Sam now carefully ate the chili on the spoon.

"Been a while since you've had to take care of him like this," Bobby noted as Dean returned to his own food.

"It's like riding a bicycle." Dean shrugged. "It's comin' back to me." The rest of the meal continued mostly in silence.

* * *

By the time Dean cleared away the table and washed Sam's face clean with a wet rag, Castiel had returned to the study with someone else in tow.

"Just don't lose your temper," Bobby warned Dean as the older Winchester carried Sam past him.

"Why, who's-?" Dean froze in the doorway. "_You_."

"Your hospitality's heart-warming," Gabriel deadpanned. "I wouldn't even be here at all, but Cassie here stole my book."

"I borrowed it," Castiel corrected, thumbing through the book in question.

"Without asking."

"You were the only one with the resources I required aside from Heaven's library, and I obviously cannot return to Heaven." Castiel glared at Gabriel briefly and the archangel gave in with a shrug.

"Anyway, I wanted to see the baby moose in action," he told Dean, craning his neck to get a glimpse of the toddler hiding against Dean's shoulder.

"Knock it off," Dean said sharply, pulling Sam back slightly.

"Hey, relax, it's not as if I'm gonna hurt the kid."

Sam chose that moment to look up, his hazel eyes finding Gabriel's face. He screamed suddenly and buried his face into Dean's shoulder again.

"BAD MAN! BAD MAN!"

"Whoa, whoa, Sam!" Dean tightened his grasp on his brother, startled. "What's wrong? Why's he bad?"

"Tuesday!" Sam sobbed into Dean's shoulder.

If Sam's outburst was shocking, it was nothing compared to Gabriel's reaction. The color drained from the archangel's face as his hand, which he had stretched out to touch Sam's shoulder, dropped limply back to his side.

"Sam-" His voice cracked slightly and the toddler whimpered, clutching Dean even tighter. Gabriel took a step back, clearly shell-shocked, and Dean actually felt a pang of pity for him.

"Hey, Sammy, he's not that guy anymore," he murmured to Sam, who shook his head against his shoulder. "He's not gonna hurt you."

"Hurt _you_!" Sam cried and Dean squeezed his tiny shoulders.

"I know, but that was a long time ago. He's sorry, right?" Dean looked up at Gabriel, giving him an opening, and the archangel took it.

"I am." Sam sniffled and lifted his head to look at Gabriel, who managed to look as contrite as he could. "I'm sorry, Sam." Sam rubbed at his teary eyes before nodding in acceptance.

"No hurt Dean no more," he ordered and Gabriel fought back a smile.

"No, I won't. I promise." Sam held out his pinky and Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Pinky swear? Seriously?"

"It's the ultimate vow," Dean supplied, grinning.

"You'd better not take pictures," Gabriel warned before reluctantly hooking his pinky with Sam's.

Dean snapped a picture on his cellphone, anyway.

* * *

**With one more final down, I have this chapter typed up and finished. We'll find out what the curse on Sam is in the next chapter.**

**Toddler!Sam: Bow to me, minions!**

**Me: -obeys- Yes, adorable overlord.**

**Toddler!Sam: -cackles-**


End file.
